


A Forgotten Melody

by luck_of_the_ladybug



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU! Coffee Shop Owner Viktor, AU! Musician Yuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Frustrated Yuuri, Katsuki Hiroko (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Married Life, Yuuri gets reminded of why he loves Viktor so much!, fluff!, goofy Viktor!, goofy married antics, laughing Yuuri!, what else to tag for?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luck_of_the_ladybug/pseuds/luck_of_the_ladybug
Summary: The sound of angry piano keys reverberated through the room. He slammed his hands down in frustration.No, no, no, that wasn’t how it was supposed to sound at all. It was supposed to-It should have-That wasn’t how-Growling in frustration, he pushed himself away from the ivory keyboard in front of him, stool legs screeching as they dragged against the pine floor. It had already been a month since the request for this composition had arrived. When he’d first seen the project, he’d thought little of the subject the client was requesting.After all, how hard could it be to write a song about falling in love?





	A Forgotten Melody

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, uh, where to start?
> 
> This is my first fanfic in over six years. I haven't written (or published) a fanfic since I was a teen. Who knew that it would take an anime like Yuri!! on Ice to draw me out of retirement? I adapted this from a story I wrote several years ago, so I apologize if there are any errors in it. I tried to find all them, but I'm sure that there are several that I missed. 
> 
> EDIT: A couple commenters pointed out a typo I made in the story, so I went back and fixed them. Please let me know if there are any other typos that I missed!

The sound of angry piano keys reverberated through the room. He slammed his hands down in frustration.

No, no, _no,_ that wasn’t how it was supposed to sound at all. It was supposed to-

It should have-

That wasn’t how-

Growling in frustration, he pushed himself away from the ivory keyboard in front of him, stool legs screeching as they dragged against the pine floor. It had already been a month since the request for this composition had arrived. When he’d first seen the project, he’d thought little of the subject the client was requesting.

After all, how hard could it be to write a song about falling in love?

The client had been very specific about what kind of tone they wanted the music to convey. Soft, sweet, maybe a little naïve and innocent – life before love. Then, drums, cymbals, loud and bombastic, an ode turned into an opera at the sudden and inevitable fall into love’s clutches.

So what was this, _this thing_ that was crawling its way from his fingers? It slunk across the keyboard in such unequal tones, dark and dismal and reeking of the emotions that came when first love ended – heartbreak and betrayal and wrestling buckets of ice cream away from Georgi as he cried over Anya for the _thousandth_ time.

(Why couldn’t he get this right? He’d composed dozens of songs, won accolades from every corner of the musical world, and yet-)

(When, exactly, had the chords faded from his mind?)

He stalked from the room, mind roiling. The deadline was fast approaching, and he was still no closer to completing the song. He came to a halt at the top of the staircase, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. What was he doing wrong?

This wasn’t the first time that he had been approached with a request for a unique composition. Occasionally, the people who contacted him were willing to pay large amounts of money for the creation of an original piece. Some clients requested themes that were a bit more generic, like the beauty of nature or the feeling of being surrounded by family. Specific themes were rare: the twinkling of stars in the night sky, a child’s laughter as they played. In all the years he’d been composing music, though, Yuuri had never been asked to write about something quite like this.

How did one even begin to translate love at first sight into a musical score? What notes suited it best? What instruments did one use to convey the sudden change one felt, to express that sudden discovery of something you’d been missing up until now? The client had given examples – instruments to use and suggestions for what moods the song should convey. In the end, Yuuri had been forced to throw those ideas aside; none of them had sounded right.

Maybe it was time to call the project a failure, and admit to the client – to the world – that Yuuri Katsuki’s days of flawless compositions were over.

Padding his way down the stairs, he made his way towards the sound of his husband’s humming. It was coming from the living room, just down the hall. Despite his foul mood, Yuuri smiled. Music, it seemed, was just as much a part of his husband’s life as it was his; regardless of who created it, there was always music echoing through their home.

Leaning against the door frame, Yuuri watched in bemusement as he watched Viktor work on the latest menu for the café he ran a few blocks away. At first, Viktor didn’t notice him, completely involved in formatting the menu displayed on his laptop’s screen. He had comfortably ensconced himself on the couch; the coffee table was littered with lists of potential ingredients and estimated costs relating to each menu item.

After a few moments, Viktor gave a sigh of relief, saving the document and closing the laptop. “Finally done?” Yuuri asked.

“Yeah. Only took twenty hours of research and phone calls, and another two hours of calculations and typing,” Viktor said, voice deceptively cheerful. “Wanna come watch a movie with me? I think we’ve earned a break by now.”

“No,” Yuuri replied. “I should get back to work. I need to finish that composition.” The smile dropped from Viktor’s lips; Yuuri’s voice was light, but Viktor had known him long enough to detect the faint thread of weariness underneath.

“You’ve been so focused on that project lately.” His lips thinned in worry. “You need to take a break. You’ll burn out if you continue to stress over it like this.”

“The deadline is just around the corner, though. I don’t have time to take a break.”

Viktor wasn’t convinced. Placing his laptop on the coffee table, he replied, “The music room will still be there later, Yuuri. Please, leave it be until tomorrow. If you’re having as much trouble with this piece as you claim, then you obviously aren’t feeling inspired right now.” Walking over to where his husband stood, he placed his hand on Yuuri’s arm. “A night of rest might do you some good.”

Yuuri winced at the blunt statement. It was true: despite the amount of time and money he’d been given to create this piece of music, he’d made little progress. He felt no enthusiasm for the project, or towards the emotion he was supposed to convey within its notes. “But-”

“No ‘but’, Yuuri. You need a break. You’re not having any success right now, and you’re not going to get anywhere if you stay frustrated.” Seeing the look on Yuuri’s face, Viktor sighed. The stubborn look on Yuuri’s face said everything. Was there anything that could do to distract him from this project?

Turning back to the couch, Viktor smiled. If nothing else would work, then why not try _that?_ “Yuuri, if you promise to take the night off, just _one_ night, I’ll promise you something.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed at Viktor’s sudden change in tone, half-wary and half-intrigued. Silently, he wondered what Viktor could possibly be planning. “What kind of promise?” he asked.

“I promise not to ask your mother about the rooster and the blender-powered bicycle.”

That- but- _what-_

“You swore that you weren’t going to talk about that anymore!”

Viktor just smiled cheekily. “Mm, yes, but I never said _how_ _long_ that promise would last.” Squealing, he danced out of the way when Yuuri tried to grab him. He whirled to a stop on the other side of the couch, just out of reach. Laughter sparkled in his blue eyes as Yuuri chased after him. “And your mom has such _good_ stories. Like that one time with the tickling contest and the hippo-”

Yuuri groaned in mock frustration. “Don’t start that again! I wish she’d never told you those stories.” He ducked around the end of the couch, but Viktor just sped around the corner, keeping himself well out of arm’s reach.

“Oh, come on. Your mom’s great!” Viktor said cheekily. A sudden dash sideways, and suddenly the area of the chase had expanded. Their bright laughter echoed through the house as Yuuri chased Viktor around coffee table, past the kitchen, and towards the back of the apartment. “Besides, where else am I going to get blackmail material?”

“You wouldn’t-”

“No, but I could find a use for them.” Viktor grinned over his shoulder as he fled into the bathroom. “How else do I get you to do the dishes if I don’t have something to use as blackmail?” He rapidly closed the door, still laughing, at the momentarily stunned look on his husband’s face.

“Viktor, come on, open the door!”

“No! You’ll never take me alive!”

Yuuri burst out in laughter. “Don’t make me come in there!”

“I’ll never surrender!” Viktor cried dramatically. “Now that I’m in here, even you can’t stop me from calling Mama and getting all the cute little Yuuri stories!”

“Viktor! You can’t-!” Yuuri tried the doorknob for the millionth time. It wouldn’t budge. He just sighed in resignation. Viktor would find out soon enough.

“Yes I can! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” For several moments, no sound came from behind the door. Then, Viktor’s voice called out, “Yuuri, where’s my phone?”

Yuuri grinned in amusement as he looked over at the coffee table. Viktor’s phone lied abandoned amidst lists of ingredients and menu ideas.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor finally emerged from the bathroom after about an hour, still pouting. He cheered up quickly, however, when he saw Yuuri perched on the couch with Viktor’s favourite movie playing on the TV and a bowl of homemade popcorn in his lap.

That night, sitting in front of the television, he lay on the couch with his head resting on Viktor’s knee. Yuuri’s fingers combed lightly through his hair absently as he focused on the events unfolding onscreen.

He was asleep before the opening credits scrolled across the screen.

 

* * *

 

The early morning sun crept in the windows, slowly marching its way across the room. One stray speck of sunlight shone directly into Yuuri’s eyes. He grumbled as he gradually awakened, the sunlight too bright for him to remain asleep any longer.

Curse mornings. Curse _sunshine._ Who even invented sunrises anyway? Whoever it was, they really hadn’t thought it through. Yuuri continued to mutter under his breath as he opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. Somehow, he’d ended up in the bedroom he shared with Viktor. He had no memory of how he’d gotten up the stairs last night, let alone changed into his pyjamas and crawled into bed. The last thing he remembered-

-he’d fallen asleep while watching a movie with Viktor.

Try as he might, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to regret taking the night off. Viktor – as always – had been right; Yuuri had needed a break. Rolling over, Yuuri stared at the face of his still-sleeping husband.

Yuuri didn’t feel like getting up just yet. It was a Sunday morning, the one day that both Viktor and Yuuri didn’t have any work to do. Viktor’s cafe was closed on Sundays, and Yuuri never worked on musical compositions – at least for the morning. It had been that way ever since they started dating, and they’d carried on the tradition after their marriage. It was their one chance to spend time with each other, to prepare a nice meal and eat together without having the weight of work or other responsibilities pulling them away. 

A soft smile crept across his face as he thought of all the long years he’d known Viktor: twelve years since they’d first met, ten years since they’d gotten married. That made up at least a third of Yuuri’s lifespan thus far. That was a long time for any relationship, but it didn’t scratch the surface on the remaining years that Yuuri planned to spend with the silver-haired goofball that he called his husband. He nuzzled against Viktor’s bare chest; Viktor, still asleep, smiled softly and slung his arm around Yuuri’s waist, cuddling him closer.

Yuuri tilted his head back to stare at Viktor’s peaceful visage. As he watched the silver-haired man sleep, he thought of how they’d first met. Strangers arguing over a piano at a garage sale, a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who got it, a groan on Yuuri’s part when Viktor won. He’d asked him why he wanted it. Viktor had admitted that he had always wanted to learn, but that the busyness of his new café had kept him from ever sitting down to try. “I thought that if I put the piano in the front corner of the café, maybe I could practice during the slow times,” Viktor had said with a sheepish shrug.

For reasons that still mystified him, Yuuri had offered to act as Viktor’s unofficial ‘piano coach’ when he could spare a few moments. Viktor, eyes alight with delight, had accepted.  

(They’d never looked back since.)

As Yuuri lay there, he counted the beat of his partner’s breathing. Even in this setting, it seemed that he couldn’t escape his musical tendencies.

He started tapping out the slow rhythm against his soft pillow.

One. Two. Three. Four.

In. Out. Up.Down.

Unintentionally, his rhythmic tapping started to take on a life of its own. The tempo of Viktor’s respirations was still present, forming the backbone, but, in between the breaths, other beats started to appear. Some were fast. Some were slow. Almost as if out of thin air, a melody started to evolve in Yuuri’s head as he laid there. The light trills of piano keys added themselves to the soft percussions of his fingers against the pillow. Violins provided the counter-melody.

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat as an entire orchestral piece came to life within his mind, one instrument at a time.

And, weaving through every violin’s sigh and each trumpet’s call, was one thing. Something that Yuuri had felt had been lacking in all the other pieces he’d composed over the past month.

Emotion. Harmony.

Love.

It wasn’t the kind that his client had been so set on; it wasn’t even close. This- this piece wasn’t about the suddenness of love at first sight. It was quite the opposite.

Not a lightning strike, a sudden plunge into love resulting from a chance encounter.

This song, it felt more like a sunset, the end of an era. It felt like, without notice, dusk fell on the way he’d once lived his life. Like the sun descending below the horizon, he’d never noticed his own descent until, suddenly, he looked up and realized that the sun had already set on who he’d once been. He hadn’t grieved the loss of the light. Despite the loss of its light, however, Yuuri had never known a person who had grieved the loss of that sun.

After all, why grieve for the sun, when you could dance with the person who hung the stars to light your way back home?

Soundlessly, Yuuri slipped from beneath Viktor’s arm. He felt a slight twinge of regret as he slid away from the warm cocoon of blankets Viktor had wrapped himself in. In the end, the pull of his piano won out over the temptation of climbing back into bed. Nothing less than music could pull Yuuri from his bed and his husband’s embrace on such a morning.

(He would apologize to Viktor later.

For now, he had a song to write.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, I am a complete sucker for sappy, fluffy AUs of Viktor and Yuuri, especially ones where they are already married. I don't think there are enough of these out there. For now, though, I think this story will just stay as a stand alone. I don't have anything else planned for this AU right now. If I ever get around to it, I might write a story with more detail about how they met in this AU. 
> 
> (P.S. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you liked about my story!)


End file.
